


Housewarming

by bazmahtaz



Series: The Jackal [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Tower, F/M, First Time Oral Sex, Fluff and Smut, Gift Giving, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 07:37:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18616102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazmahtaz/pseuds/bazmahtaz
Summary: Taking place between Chiaroscuro and Jackal, Steve manages to convince Edith to move into the Avengers Tower with him. On moving day, he presents her with a gift, and then another.Chiaroscuro isn't required reading for this, but you'll definitely get a better sense of Edith as a character if you DO read it first.





	Housewarming

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I know I said I wouldn't write anything else until I'd finished editing Chiaroscuro buuuut...
> 
> Yeah I'm almost finished Jackal already and I figured nobody would complain If I provided you with more smut.

Edith moves into the Tower three months after Steve.

Her apartment had been trashed from the STRIKE attack, but almost all of her belongings had still been in boxes anyway, so it was just a matter of loading everything into a truck and driving it from Harlem to Manhattan. He had managed the load-up in under an hour. The only furniture she had wanted to keep was an overstuffed leather recliner that was smeared with dried paint and festooned with multicoloured patches up and down its arms, as well as an easel that had seen it's fair share of abuse over the years. Everything else was sent to donation. 

It had taken Steve several hours of careful negotiation. Edith was a person who was used to living alone. She needed space. She was a night owl and he was a morning person. She liked to paint alone. They agreed to have separate bedrooms and a knocking rule, and Steve promised he would never judge her midnight snacking habits So Help Him God. She would quit smoking, and would share any pizza she ordered with him when he was home.

Once all her boxes were piled inside the apartment, and then moved to the appropriate corners of the house, Steve joined her in sprawling on the bare, wooden, floor of her new bedroom.

“Green.” He says.

“Emerald paradise.” She corrects, gesturing at the swatch taped to the still unpainted door. “All the furniture I got is oak. It'll lighten up the room when it's all here.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“At noon, apparently.” She confirms. “Guess I'll have to survive racking with you tonight.” 

He smiles at that, turning his head to face her “I promise not to hog the blanket.” 

“I promise to put my ice-cold foot on your back if you do.” She lifts the appendage in question and waggles it threateningly, reminding him of the box he's been metaphorically sitting on for a week now. 

It's a long rectangle, wrapped in Christmas paper because that was all Steve had, and light despite its size. She looks at him dubiously when he returns to the room and places it in her lap.

“My birthday isn't for another month.”

“It's a housewarming gift.” He kisses her temple and it earns him another raised eyebrow.

“You should know,” she says, fitting her finger along the edge of one of the folds in the wrapping “that if there's anything phallic in here, I'm moving back to Harlem.” She tears the paper from corner to corner, pushing it away from the top of the matte black box with the silver Stark Industries logo on it. Steve had wanted a plain cardboard box, but had been scoffed at and overruled. 

“Is it a gun?”

“It's not a gun.”

“Is it a… robot?”

“Edith. Open the box”

She does, flipping the tabs up and lifting the lid to reveal a black, foam shell. She digs her fingers into the sides of it and pulls it away in one piece, nearly dropping it when her eyes fall on the boxes contents.

“Holy shit, Steve.”

He smiles, kissing her temple again, running his hands over her shoulders. “I know you wanted something a little more natural looking, but Tony said this would feel more like the real thing once you get it put on.” 

The leg is a twin to her own in terms of proportion, and made of a similar alloy to the one that had been used to repair her bones after the Triskelion fell. Ada-something or other, Steve thinks. Tony had taken one look at an image of Bucky's arm and declared he could do it better, and Steve had taken him up on that bet. The inspiration is obvious, but the metal has a matte sheen that makes it look like tungsten.

“I'll be able to feel it?” Edith asks, disbelieving, she runs her fingers over the curves of metal, “and move it, I guess?”

Steve nods “I'm not super clear on the specifics but Tony said something about it being the ‘new age of prosthetics’ when he finished it.” 

“This must have cost a fortune!”

“He owed me a favour.” He laughs, her face is a mixture of disbelief and excitement that he hasn't seen on her before, but he finds it beautiful enough that he runs a hand through her hair and kisses her softly, feeling her smile against his lips and wrap one arm around his neck. 

“Thank you. So much.” She mumbles, still kissing him, and he succumbs to the urge to lift her into his lap, box and all, and pull her as close as the cardboard will allow.

She's warm under his fingers as they trail up her back, still a little gaunt beneath her shirt, and he can feel the shift of muscle as she presses back against his touch like a cat. One of her hands is massaging the back of his scalp, sending a tingling sort of pleasure down his spine that makes his mouth go slack and his thoughts go fuzzy. She takes the advantage and licks past his lips with a gentle insistence that has him responding accordingly. 

They haven't done anything, not since that first time, and Steve doesn't want to fumble his way through like he did. He's done… research, and he wants to use it to show her just how much he appreciates her being here. His mouth moves to her pulse, licking there before biting gently, barely stopping his hips from jerking against her when she moans aloud and tugs at his hair. 

He manages to get the box out from between them, and stands up, holding her steady by the thighs and walking them across the hall to his room, where the bed is already set up. When he lays her down against the grey sheets, with the evening sunlight painting golden lines across her, he nearly loses his breath at the sight. He kisses her slower, fans his hands over her sides and under her shirt until he can pull it off her and put his mouth on amber skin and inhale that orange-oil scent that never seems to leave her. She growls his name when he scrapes his teeth over the rise of a hip-bone and then whimpers when he pulls her belt away and tugs her jeans down just enough that he can press his lips over the dark seam of her underwear and inhale there too.

He hadn't been sure about this at first. He knew that most of the video's he'd watched were… exaggerated. The actors doing what they were paid to do, engaging in a kind of sexual hyperbole that was almost funny in it's unbelievability. Why would someone want to put their mouth anywhere near another person's genitals?

But then he thought about it, and decided that he would at least  _ try _ .

The smell is unique, one he already associates automatically with sex based on a singular exposure alone, and stronger now that his face is so close, and when he swipes his tongue over the soaked fabric of her underwear he's greeted with a pleasant, astringent, taste that seems vaguely metallic. Steve decides immediately that he likes it, and likes the whimper that leaves Edith's mouth as she tangles her hand in his hair even better.

He pulls the fabric away, lifting her thick thighs over his shoulders, running the pad of his thumb over the wet crease of her sex, flushed rose and so, so warm. He follows the path with the flat of his tongue, parting her folds and gathering the taste of her on his tongue. He's rewarded with a wrecked moan and her hips lifting from the edge of the bed. He has to bar his forearm across her hips to keep her in place when he repeats the action, then bring the other hand up to clamp over her thigh when he teases the hard shape of her clit.

When he looks up at her she's biting her lip and staring down at him with wide, hungry eyes. She's blushing prettily from her hairline to her breasts, hair fanned out messily around her in silky lines that look like pooling ink against the dove grey bed. When he closes his lips over the most sensitive part of her, she gives a full body shudder, eyes fluttering closed, dark eyelashes casting shadows over her cheeks. 

He lets the hand on her thigh slide up, over her stomach and to one of her breasts, tracing the rise of her nipple in an echo of the movement he makes with his tongue. She sobs a curse, back arching off the bed, muscles going taut beneath his fingers, and then yelling out when he darts his tongue inside her. 

It's like licking wet silk, smooth and slippery around him and filling his mouth with the heady taste of her arousal. Her body is hot to the touch, writhing beneath his hands and against his mouth and sending bolts of answering heat to coil in his belly. He feels powerful like this, watching her come apart under his unpracticed attentions. He's definitely making up for his lack of experience with pure enthusiasm, enjoying the warm, mild, taste of her as she gasps desperately above him. 

“Don't stop.” She pants, pulse beating against his tongue, fluttering beneath her flesh like a caged bird. “Steve. I'm so close, please don't stop.”

Steve hums his understanding, probing her open and licking up to her clit, repeating the motion until her nails dig into his scalp and she comes with a breathless cry.

He slows his movement, but doesn't stop completely until she shivers and her hand strokes the side of his face, urging him upward.

Edith is laying sprawled across his bed, her eyes barely cracked open, with a blissed-out smile on her face. He settles next to her, goes to kiss her and then hesitates, remembering where he'd just had his mouth.

She meets him halfway though, pulling him close and sighing in pleasure when her tongue sweeps between his lips, giving him silent permission. Steve, hesitation forgotten, sucks her lower lip between his, bites softly, and soothes it a moment later. She meets him, hungry and luxurious as she shifts and presses her body against his still-clothed one. Fingers tracing over his chest his sides, the planes of his stomach, and sliding under his belt to trace the vee of his hips. 

“Off.” She growls against his lips, and Steve obeys with eager hands, pulling his buckle free and nearly breaking the zipper on his jeans. She pulls his shirt over his shoulders, and then they're both naked and tangled together in his bed and he briefly thinks he must be dreaming. 

But no, Edith is never this aggressive in his dreams, nails digging into his shoulders and teeth nipping their way up his jaw, tugging his ear lobe, and then trailing down his throat. 

She doesn't resist when Steve rolls on top of her, just wraps her leg around his waist and guides him until he's nudging her open, then pushing inside with a strangled sound he finds distantly embarrassing. She's so tight around him he's briefly afraid to move, but she lifts her hips in such a way that he's pushed even deeper, and his hesitation is forgotten. She's so slick inside, and what little resistance there is between them just serves to heighten the feeling of boiling need coursing through him.

Steve sees an echo of it in her face, lips pink and parted, skin gone a dusky rose from exertion, scars branching over her body like silver filigree. Edith, his Edith, she's so beautiful like this. He wants to fill her, over and over, to keep her in his bed and worship her and spoil her in every way she deserves, to learn every inch of her body to the point that he can draw her from memory. He wants her hard and fast and slow and gentle and forever. He wants to come with the taste of her on his tongue and her warm, soft, skin under his fingers.

Her nails sink into his shoulders, and he feels her spasm around him, letting out a string of desperate profanity interspersed with his name. He kisses her roughly, chasing her to the edge, and then following her over it with a guttural curse of his own, twitching and emptying himself inside her until his head spins. 

His senses are scorched, vision blurry and spotted, nerve endings scrambled, ears filled with the muffled rush of his own blood that seems to be pulsing through him in synch with Edith's heartbeat. When the world tilts back into place he's half in top of her and probably crushing her ribs, but she's just breathing hard and looking relaxed and happy. 

Still, he tries to slump more to the side, if only to give her more room to breathe, but before he can manage she just swats him gently. “Stay.”

“You sure?”

“Very.” She sighs happily and kisses the nearest available strip of skin, his shoulder, and then settles underneath him. “Love you, Steve.” She murmurs, and is asleep before he can reply.

Steve hasn't given many housewarming gifts in his life, but he's pretty sure this one was the best.    
  



End file.
